


Darkest Before the Dawn

by thebmatt



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:07:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29888472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebmatt/pseuds/thebmatt
Summary: The Scions of the Seventh Dawn have arrived in Ishgard following the disaster at the Ul'dahn banquet and their subsequent escape. Within the relative safety of House Fortemps, they finally take a moment to process all that they've been through.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Warriors of Light  
> Aleister "Old Man" Franks - male Highlander Hyur - Summoner/Scholar  
> Rheika Aliapoh - female Keeper of the Moon Miqo'te - Bard/Ninja  
> Dahkar Darkspear - male Xaela Au Ra - White Mage/Dragoon/Black Mage  
> Fearless Willow - female Sea Wolf Roegadyn - Warrior
> 
> Note that "The Armory" is an small pocket dimension that the Warriors of Light have access to place and retrieve items from instantaneously, one of the many powers granted to them via the Echo.

It was yet another bitterly cold night in Ishgard. The snow fell gently, but in flakes of such large size that one was hard-pressed to see anything but a few feet in front of their face. Even from the height of the top floor room of Fortemps Manor, Fearless Willow could barely see much of the rest of the city below, much less the snowy peaks of Abalathia's Spine that surrounded it.

For a mercy, though, there was at least little to see. No dragonkin assaulted the walls, no flashes of dragonfire or exploding munitions lit up the sky, no soldiers dragging their fallen kin, or worse civilian countrymen, to safety. It was, for the moment, peaceful.

Fearless could not say the same for her own mind. Nor those of her companions, her fellow Warriors of Light and their fellow Scions that had escaped the...incident in the palace of Ul'dah.

She turned away from the window to regard them all. Count Edmont de Fortemps, their benefactor, had granted them the three spare rooms the top floor of his manor contained, generally reserved for visiting dignitaries from the Holy See or the other noble houses. For the time being, they served as the Scion's impromptu headquarters. The room they currently found themselves in was the largest of the three, generally used by the staff of whatever important person would be staying there. It had a group of four single occupancy beds, and would be occupied by herself, Rheika, and Tataru for as long as the Scions would make this their home. The two smaller rooms, if you could even call them that, were reserved for the dignitaries themselves, along with their spouses. Dahkar and Alphinaud would occupy one, leaving Franks with the last.

The boys had currently joined them in their room to plot out their course of action for the morning. They'd been given a brief tour of the city, which had ended in the early evening. Exhausted from their trek from Camp Dragonhead and the stress of the past few days, they'd elected to call it a day and get some much-needed rest. Alphinaud had requested that the group meet briefly before retiring.

Fearless idly wondered why exactly Alphinaud was not yet appraising them of the particulars of whatever approach he had doubtless concocted by now, when her eyes fell on Dahkar. The Au Ra was seated on a wooden chest at the foot of Rheika's chosen bed, still clad in the Drachen mail worn by Ishgard's own Dragoons, bent over with his face planted into his palms....and he was shaking.

This immediately set off alarums in her mind. Dahkar was perhaps the most even-tempered person Fearless has ever known, to the point he could be called stoic by those who didn't know him (and his rather dry wit) very well. He liked to claim that it was what allowed him to wield the powers of conjury, thaumaturgy, and those granted to him by the Eye of Nidhogg with equal levels of skill. In recent battles against the Dravanian Horde, it was the latter of those powers he'd been wielding most often, and in those instances; he was Fearless' stalwart companion on the front lines of the battle. Whilst she would occupy the enemy's attention with her axe, Dahkar was ever close, harrying their foe with brutal spear strikes. Even when he would take to the skies, she knew she would see him again a second later, crashing down on their foe. Though he didn't quite match her height, he was every bit as strong as she was.

He'd taken their exile and the loss of their friends equally as hard as any of them, but then he'd suffered a further indignity upon their arrival to the city. As they'd met the Fortemps manservant who was to escort them to the manor, an elderly Elezen, likely a noble by her dress, had spotted them. Dahkar, thinking that they were likely safe from battle, had removed his helmet, revealing his dark blue skin, snow-white hair, and blackscale horns attached to the side of his head. With the helmet on, most simply assumed his horns were part of his armor, but without it, there was no mistaking their true nature.

"HERETIC!" she'd screamed, pointing at them with a withered claw of a finger. "A HERETIC IS HERE! KNIGHTS, WHERE ARE THE KNIGHTS, KILL IT! HALONE SAVE US, KILL IT BEFORE MORE COME!" Her escort tried to pull her away, but she would not relent. Temple Knights had rushed to the scene, but luckily enough of them knew who the Warriors of Light were, knew that they had fought alongside them at the Steps of Faith, knew that they had been instrumental in the death of the wyrm Vishap. Unluckily, however, the commotion had attracted the attention of a passing inquisitor, and the group had to endure several minutes of his smug arrogant questions before he pompously dismissed them, considering the matter closed. He'd directed much of his condescension Dahkar's way, and while he ultimately did not delay them, it was entirely clear that he was not convinced the old woman's shrieking was entirely without merit.

If it bothered Dahkar at the time, he hadn't let a single bit of it show on his face. However, now that they were in private, it seemed the stress had finally gotten to him.

"Dahkar? You alright?" Fearless asked him. She wanted to move closer, give him a reassuring hand on the shoulder (She'd gotten fairly decent at avoiding his armor's many spikes), but she waited for a response, hoping to gauge if such a thing was welcome.

"I'm going. To kill. Them all." His voice was tight, full of more anger than she'd ever heard from him. His shaking stilled, as though giving words to his thoughts had taken all the energy roiling inside him.

"Who?" asked a deep quiet voice off to her left. Fearless glanced in the direction it had come from. Franks, their nominal field leader; stood there with his eyes on Dahkar, concern and fear evident on his face. Fearless knew where it came from. If Dahkar planned to retaliate against the prejudices he'd endured earlier, it would make their situation far worse than it already was. The sanctuary they'd found would quickly become another Ul'dah they'd have to escape. Fearless scanned her eyes over the others, but like Franks they also stared at Dahkar.

"Ilberd. His scumsucking cohorts Yuyuhase and Laurentius. The other Twelvesdamned Braves who spit on the oaths they took! Lolorito and every damned one of the Monetarists who conspired with him and Adeledji! Seven Hells, I might just dig up his corpse and burn it! AND ANYONE ELSE WHO AIDED THEM!" Dahkar yelled, his voice breaking as he rose from his chair. He stared down at Franks, his eyes mixed with tears and the fury of a dragon soul that welled within him. Franks to his credit did not back down, despite being a few ilms shorter than his angry companion.

The sounds of a single step taken on the wooden floors and a series of choked-back breaths quickly broke the tense silence, and everyone turned to their source: Alphinaud. Dahkar spun towards him and kneeled, bringing himself at eye level with the Elezen, then pointed a gentle finger at him.

"And I will not hear another word blaming yourself for this, Alphinaud." His voice was much calmer now. "In case you've forgotten, I agreed with you on the merits of the idea of the Crystal Braves! You set them on a grand course, you are not the one who chose to co-opt them for the sake of greed, you're not the one who chose to break the words they swore, and you aren't the one who orchestrated to use them, and us, to take greater control of the reins of power! So don't think for a minute that I blame you, nor plan vengeance against you!"

Alphinaud wiped tears from his face, but smiled. Dahkar's words appeared to have the reassuring effect that Fearless knew he'd intended. The Au Ra had always had a soft spot for the Leveilleur twins (not that she had any room to talk).

Dahkar rose and spun again, facing the rest of the room's occupants, stepping back as he spoke. "But our friends, our family...these....vermin have gotten them at best imprisoned with all the good the Scions have done tossed aside and forgotten, and at worse....k-..." He choked up, unable to give voice to the very idea that they were gone forever. After a few seconds of deep breaths, he moved on. "And we are stuck out here, malms away from any of them, from ANYTHING we can do to help them, in a city where our allies are few and most of the denizens are fanatics who would likely execute us for some imagined offense, while they who put us in this position laugh and grow fat on our suffering."

He looked at each of them, in turn, for a few moments, as if gauging their reactions for support. "They think they've schemed their way to victory, but they don't realize the price their actions will cost them. Well, I'm going to collect from every. single. one of them. They will learn, as they take their final Twelvesdamned breath, the price of betraying the Warriors of Light."

He was shaking again, the wellspring of fury within him having filled anew. Franks stepped forward, about to address Dahkar, but Alphinaud spoke first.

"I share your desire for reven...no, for justice, my friend." Alphinaud appeared a bit startled as five pairs of eyes quickly were on him, but he regained his composure and continued "And I appreciate that you hold me blameless for all that has occurred, even if I cannot yet do that for myself. I will accede to your wishes, however, and not beg for forgiveness for mine own failings."

"I must, however, beg your patience. Because you are quite right. We are stuck here, in Ishgard, a decidedly unfriendly-to-outsiders location, and it will take time to unravel all that has been orchestrated against us. It will take time to hear word of our friends. And it will take time to rebuild ourselves and to plot the downfall of those who have committed these crimes."

Alphinaud's eyes narrowed. "But all of these things WILL happen, I promise you. And when it does, I shall be right next to you all, seeing that....that justice is done".

To Alphinaud's credit, he didn't flinch from Dahkar's withering stare, Fearless noted. Nonetheless, she felt an urge to protect the young man welling inside her, until she could ignore it no longer. She walked over and interposed herself between the two, crossing her arms as she did. Dahkar's head snapped up to regard her, only a few ilms taller than he. His eyes still fairly blazed with anger, though his expression shifted just a minute amount, enough that Fearless could read as slight confusion. She smiled at him. "All right, Dahk, that's enough. I know you're pissed. I am too. But you remember the promise we made each other?"

Dahkar held his eye contact for the two seconds of a breath, then exhaled, closing his eyes as he did, and nodded. Behind him, Rheika's purple-furred ears perked up. Wait, when had she sat down on the bed? Fearless hadn't even noticed her movements. Rheika leaned back, enough to bring her head into Fearless' line of sight. "What promise?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. Normally she was the group's "face" in conversations, happy to talk to anyone from the beggars on Ul'dah's streets to heads of state. She had the ability to put anyone at ease around her, not at all hindered, Fearless thought, by how exceptionally beautiful she was. Now, however, she seemed not to know what to say, letting Fearless lead the de-escalation of the situation.

Fearless turned to her. Whether she knew it or not, Rheika had done the absolute smartest thing she could in this situation. "I've told ya how I fight, remember? The Inner Beast. It's a part of me that's savage, bloodthirsty, and gives me more strength that I could have on my own. But I gotta keep it under control, right? Otherwise it'll take me over and try to just....butcher everything." Rheika's eyes went wide, a reaction that Fearless had seen enough times to know that she was imagining a Fearless with no morals, no restraint, and no cares for anyone, swinging her axe at her own friends, screaming with a frenzy. Fearless wasn't offended, the love and friendship she felt for all of them, and the other missing Scions, were the source of her own strength to keep her Beast tightly leashed. She continued.

"It's the same for Dahkar, kinda. He's got that dragon power within him, all that fire and rage, and he's gotta hold that in line. Or else he'll end up like Estinien. Remember what he told us about what happened to him?" Fearless paused to give Rheika a moment to answer. Her only reply was a simple nod. "So we made each other a promise. We'd call each other out if we were afraid the other was losin' control. We'd respect that, and walk away, no question." Fearless turned back to Dahkar, looking him right in the eye, and adopted her most stubborn expression. "And I'm callin on that promise right now. Get outta here, take a walk and get your head on straight." She held his gaze for a few seconds, as if daring him to break his word to her. Dahkar looked back at her with anger in his expression, as though he was about to do just that. Their gazes held for the span of a few breaths. To the others, it seemed like an eternity, but soon, Dahkar's head fell, and he exhaled. When he looked up again, tears were falling from his eyes, the blue limbal rings shining with wetness. Fearless placed a hand on his shoulder. The pair nodded at each other, and Dahkar moved towards the door.

"Dahkar?"

He stopped at the voice, and turned to regard its source. Franks had retrieved his helm and held it out towards him. "You probably should wear this. We really do not need a repeat of the...incident...from earlier."

Dahkar's expression darkened a bit at the memory, but he knew Franks was correct. The Drachen mail was designed with a great number of spiky protrusions, the better to defend against being eaten by dragons. When donned, his own horns practically blended right in, aside from their black coloration. In the current lateness of the hour, no one would likely notice. Dragoons commanded a great deal of respect in Ishgard, and most did not disturb them. He'd be far more likely to be left alone this way than he would in the robes he wore as a Black or White Mage.

Dahkar took the helm. "Right, thanks Old Man." He placed it on his head, taking care to hide his shaggy white hair within it, and twisted the switch that locked the visor in its lowered position. He then turned and exited the room.

"I'm still not quite sure I'll ever understand why you insist on having everyone call you that" Alphinaud spoke up, not long after the doors closed. He turned and walked to the room's small table, sitting himself down in one of its three spartan chairs. Though he sat with some poise, the others could see the sheer amount of emotional weight he seemed to let go of as he finally relaxed, if only a small amount. "You could hardly be described as even close to middle-aged, the color of your hair notwithstanding. And you certainly don't carry yourself as though you were aged, in battle or otherwise".

Franks chuckled. Fearless found his deep voice comforting, and had ever since the pair had met in the wilds of Eastern La Noscea, novice adventurers who decided to share the responsibility of a guild-assigned task. Franks leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he replied to Alphinaud's query. "Told you plenty of times before, young one. I don't care for my given name. Never have. Back home, "Old Man" s'what the neighboring children used to call me. Probably making light of my white hair. Whatever the reason, it stuck as a nickname, and I prefer it."

"And remind me again, just where is home, exactly?" Rheika's silvery voice chimed in. She had flopped herself onto the bed, head resting on her hands, with a playful expression on her face. "You never talk about it. You look like an Ala Mhigan, but they never seem to stop reminiscing about their homeland, yet you just avoid the topic altogether!". She dragged out the "you" while lazily pointing an accusing finger in Franks' direction.

Franks simply shook his head, still smiling. "You're right. I don't talk about it, for good reason. There's nothing left for me there, nothing left that I had once cared about. Maybe one day, after all this is over, I'll take you there. Maybe you'll see why I don't call it home anymore. Home's here in Eorzea, specifically the Rising Stones. And right now we have way too many obstacles standing between us and getting back there, none of which we can deal with now." Franks stood up from the wall and began moving towards the room's exit.

"Where are you going?" Tataru called after him. Everyone in the room jumped, just slightly, and turned to the last bed, on the far end of the room. There sat the Scion's secretary, having observed the proceedings so quietly, they'd all completely forgotten she was even present.

Franks turned back to regard them all, smiling underneath his bushy mustache. "Our tour guide didn't take us near enough to that Skysteel Manufactory place for my liking. I'm going to see if anyone's still there, maybe see if I can learn anything from their forging techniques." With that, he departed their room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Fearless and Rheika turned to the other and shrugged. It was likely that the place would not be accepting of visitors at this late in the day, but Franks was their resident expert in the various crafting disciplines. Perhaps he'd learn something, or perhaps he'd return within a bell empty-handed save a desire to try again on the morrow.

Rheika turned her attention to Tataru, the two of them beginning a somewhat animated discussion of things they'd seen since coming to Ishgard, places they planned to explore more in the morrow, and the like. Alphinaud soon joined them. It was simple conversation, likely intentionally on Rheika's part, to keep either of them from dwelling too much on the unknown fates of their friends. Fearless tried to pay attention, but her gaze continuously wandered to the door, worry for her friend Dahkar continuing to plague her. Perhaps she shouldn't have let him go alone.

"Hey, uh....I'm gonna go look for Dahkar. Hopefully he's cooled off, if not, I should be there to help". The others smiled at her briefly, then returned to their conversation. Fearless grabbed her overcoat and made for the door. A truly flustered servant of House Fortemps was on the other side, babbling about another of their wards now wandering the dangerous streets, pleading warnings to her about avoiding certain areas, and the like. She smiled and nodded politely, not giving the words much attention. She was a Warrior of Light after all, and though she would not be openly carrying her axe in the streets, it rested safely in the Armory, able to be summoned at a moments notice.

She soon reached the manor's door, and after soothing the stressed servant with a promise to be careful, she made her way into Ishgard's cold evening.


	2. Chapter 2

The Skysteel Manufactory, Franks was somewhat surprised to see, appeared to still be in operations. He'd heard the sound of the machines within raising and slamming down, forging superheated metal into weaponry. He smelled the burning fuel from within. If the forges were still going, it stood to reason that people were inside manning them. He made his way to the doors, and knocked.

"Enter!" an Elezen voice proclaimed within. Franks opened the door and stepped inside. Before he could speak at all, an Elezen man dressed in workman's clothing stood before him, a strange...something pointed his way. Whatever the item was, it played an audible chime, which seemed to amaze the Elezen. He looked to Franks.

"Hmmm, my prospectometer seems rather fond of you. Let's see, shall we...? Odd garb. Striking presence. Would I be right in assuming that you are one of the outsiders who helped save Ishgard?"

Franks was taken aback, not expecting to be....examined in such a manner. "Er...yes? I mean, yes, I am one of said outsiders..."

"Ah, I thought as much! My prospectometer seldom lies! And let me just say, you have made the right choice in visiting our humble workshop!" the Elezen exclaimed, grinning almost madly. He then seemed to notice that others were staring and composed himself. Turning and gesturing to the various machinery behind him, he spoke again. "Ahem. Welcome to the Skysteel Manufactory, where miracles are born from aether, metal, and imagination! From cannons to ballistas, we develop and manufacture a range of weapons designed for slaying dragon invaders."

Spinning to regard Franks again, he then added "But we are also accepting students who wish to take up a firearm and learn the techniques of the machinist!" He reached to his back, drawing forth the aforementioned weapon that had been slung there, and brandished it. "What say you? Are you interested in joining us, and exploring the machinist discipline?"

Franks was utterly stunned. He'd only come here to perhaps swap smithing knowledge. "Well, I....suppose learning to wield a firearm couldn't hurt...though I'm not certain it's entirely practical compared to wielding the arcanima magicks I've mastered. Don't weapons of that nature require a great deal of time to reload, not to mention the need to carry the powder and ammo necessary. They've never seemed practical in prolonged battles to me"

The Elezen smiled, "Ah, but that is the beauty of this new art, my friend! For it is not the simple firearms you have likely witnessed throughout Eorzea that we train with. No, these firearms are designed to be utilized with a new invention of mine own! Behold!" He turned to the side and thrust his left hip forward, revealing something akin to a toolbox on his waist. It was clearly metal, connected by a handle to some sort of container attached to one end that was capped with a gauge. A small windowed area revealed a glowing blue substance within the container. Various tools were strapped to the box.

"Is that aether within?" Franks asked

The Elezen's smile grew wider. "Indeed! Excellently noticed! This is called the Aetherotransformer. As the name might imply to a clearly learned man such as yourself, it takes a small amount of aether located within the wielder's body and aspects it towards the necessary elements needed to generate and propel the weapon's ammunition. I worked with some examples of Garlond Ironworks' products to develop it myself, and I envision it can do so much more than what it does now.

Franks was openly staring in wonder, and the Elezen noticed. "Ah, I see that spark in your eyes, my friend. You are likewise fascinated by the design and potential of magitek, yes?" Franks nodded. "Join us, then! I shall teach you all that I have learned, as well as my vision for the future of the machinist, and we can build the techniques and the devices together! What say you, my friend?

Franks couldn't say yes quickly enough.

* * *

Dahkar stood on the bridge that lead to the Hoplon, staring up at the statues of the Knights Twelve. Everything about the city felt oppressive, from the cold to the constant stares from patrolling Temple Knights who seemed to be just waiting for someone to do something they could claim as heresy. He hated it. Worse was the attention that they gave his way. He was, after all, wearing the armor of a dragoon, something many of the knights apparently did not commonly witness, and they stared in curiosity, or worse, _reverence_.

This walk was not helping his mood.

Yet onward he walked, choosing a direction almost at random, and when he saw what building he was approaching, he immediately regretted not going the other way. The structure had been described to him as the Supreme Sacred Tribunal of Halonic Inquisitory Doctrine. It was where "sinners came to answer for their crimes before the Fury" as the Fortemps servant had described it. More like where innocent people were dragged in on exaggerated charges that cost them their lives, he expected. He wondered how soon before some inquisitor dragged him or one of his friends through here. He'd make them regret it if they did....

"By the Fury, after witnessing a spectacle like that, everyday life seems rather dull in comparison..." The voice belonged to a pompously dressed Elezen who'd apparently just come out of the Tribunal. He seemed to be talking to himself. Dahkar wondered just what sort of spectacle the man had witnessed within that would have him in such a state

"What happened?" he gruffly asked. The Elezen turned, and immediately appeared shocked, perhaps even fearful, that he was being addressed. Dahkar was perplexed, until he remembered _oh right, the armor_.

"M...my lord Dragoon! So you, ah, you didn't see that trial earlier?"

Dahkar simply crossed his arms and shook his head

"Ah, I see. Well, if I may say so, my lord, it was your loss. Fury take me, the way that heretic swung that slab of iron he called a sword was a sight to behold!" The Elezen closed his eyes, concentrating on the memory. "He couldn't have carried a shield if he'd wanted to, the blade was so big. Had to keep two hands on it at all times! I was amazed he managed to keep up with that Temple Knight for as long as he did. Fought like a demon from the deepest pits of the seventh hell, bellowing threats and working his arts. I wasn't sure what to make of it at first, but then I heard someone say that he must be a _dark knight_!"

The Elezen suddenly opened his eyes, and stared at Dahkar, utter fear in his eyes.

"N-not that I know anything about such things, my lord! Only what the rumors say!"

Dahkar considered intimidating the fool, putting some of the fear that pervaded this place into him, but he hesitated. Something about the term "Dark Knight" had piqued his curiosity. He smiled, instead. "No, of course not. Please, tell me more of what you saw. You are correct, it does indeed sound like my loss, and I would hear more, if you would".

That seemed to soothe the terror in the noble's eyes, and he launched into an animated recounting of the battle. "Ah...very well, my Lord. So as I was saying, that heretic was fighting like a man _possessed_. Even after he took several wounds, he showed no sign of pain─though there was no mistaking the blood. As the fight wore on, it began to soak through his armor, spreading to every ilm of his body. But when it began to rise and envelop him as a mist, I realized it wasn't blood, but something dark and twisted... But the righteous are not so easily cowed, Halone be praised! I screamed myself hoarse when that Temple Knight slipped past his guard and ran him through. Good riddance, I say. Man was not meant to wield such arts! Yet I wonder...was he truly one of those...those... Well, it matters not. I heard the Temple Knights talking of dumping his corpse in the Brume. By sunrise, it'll be stripped bare and tossed over the walls. It will be as though he never was..."

The noble then turned, noting the late hour. "Well, I must be going, my lord Dragoon. Halone keep you!" And with that, he scurried off, no doubt eager to tell someone of an encounter he'd had with one of Ishgard's famous dragonslayers. Dahkar had paid him no mind after he'd mentioned the Brume, having already started to make his way back to the nearby aetheryte shard as soon as he'd trailed off. He couldn't quite explain why he felt the need to see this man's remains, but he supposed if nothing else, perhaps the nearby Forgotten Knight's ale could help him sleep.

He touched the aetheryte, his destination in focus, and immediately the world vanished around him, only to have the run down buildings and construction edifice of the Brume appear less than a second later. Spotting the Temple Knights wasn't hard either, their armor stuck out like a sore thumb among the slops most people wore. There were two of them, dropping an armored body on one of the hastily constructed stairs. Dahkar strode up to meet them, catching a part of their conversation. "...more than far enough for charity. They'll take care of the rest".

The knight turned at hearing Dahkar's steps coming behind him, and was immediately taken aback. "Lord Dragoon!" he said, immediately saluting. "This man, he...was a heretic, pronounced guilty at..."

"At the Tribunal, I know." Dahkar interjected. He wanted these Temple Knights gone lest they look too closely at him and realize that Dragoon or not, he was technically an outsider. He did not need that right now, so he came up with a lie quickly that would convince them. "You've done your duty, but his remains might hold clues to others like him. Go, I need no aid"

The Knights saluted again, and walked off. Dahkar crouched down to examine the body. The noble had been correct, that sword he wore was absolutely massive. He couldn't imagine anyone save a Roegadyn even comfortably wielding it, much less this...Elezen, he supposed the man was. His armor was a mix of black metal and what looked to be brass trim with some cloth adorning it. The helm covered practically every part of his face. Strangely enough he saw no signs of the seeping bloodstains the noble had also mentioned.

"Well, here's hoping we all don't end up like you, friend." Dahkar muttered to the corpse. He made to stand when something caught his eye; a faint glint on the ground, partially obscured by the man's armor. He brushed it aside to see a dark red gem of some kind. Wait...was that a soul crystal?

He picked it up...and almost immediately began glowing a red-black energy. It sapped his strength, causing him to lose consciousness. As his eyes began closing, he saw the corpse glowing with that same energy

"....Is this it? Is this all that awaits?"

The voice...Dahkar couldn't tell where it was coming from. Was he dreaming? Was he dead?

"No....no more. Enough. Open your eyes!"

He was dreaming then. Who was this voice?

"Look! Do you see now? Do you see?! Dahkar...Dahkar!"

He finally opened his eyes.

The man who but moments ago had been a corpse...was standing. His eyes were the only thing he could see through the helm. They were a dull yellow...and staring at him.

"I've been waiting for you to open your eyes. You all right? You were moaning in your sleep and sweating buckets besides"

The voice was deep. It certainly sounded like no Elezen he'd heard before, not that he could make any distinct features under all that armor.

"You....you were dead."

The man laughed "Yeah, neat trick, right? Convinced the Temple Knights, apparently convinced a Dragoon too. Except you're not really one of them, are you, Dahkar?"

Dahkar propped himself up on one knee and stared angrily into those dull yellow eyes. "Who are you? How do you know my name? And what the hell did you DO to me?"

The man shook his head and chuckled again. "Your name? Hells, who doesn't know your name? Slayer of Ultima Weapon? Of Vishap? Even the Ul'dahn Sultana, if rumors are to be believed? Everyone knows you. Or at least they think they do. Name's Fray, by the way. And before you ask, no, I'm not a heretic. Try convincing a Temple Knight drunk on authority of that, eh? Shame the pompous arse got the better of me. As to what happened to you, the soul crystal, you touched it, yes? Bet that didn't feel good. It was supposed to return my life back to me after a time. Guess you started that process early and it knocked you on your arse for your troubles. Thanks for that by the way"

Dahkar's head suddenly was swimming. "There was...a voice...."

Fray looked at him strangely. Was that...curiosity? "A voice, eh? Interesting. Maybe this wasn't coincidence after all."

"Please, someone-ANYONE!" This voice was new, female, and deeper into the Brume. Dahkar shook his head, clearing the final cobwebs from his mind, and stood. Someone needed his help. Before he could take a step, Fray's massive blade blocked his way.

"Not so fast."

Dahkar glared at the helmed face "Either move, or be moved. Whoever that was, she needs help"

Fray shook his head, not moving away. "We need to talk about what's happening to you─what's growing within you, before you get carried away. There's a darkness within us all─nothing dangerous, mind. In fact, it's quite healthy." Fray held the soul crystal out "But the crystal changes you─gives you the power to channel it."

Those dull yellow eyes suddenly glowed a fiery red. "Do it without proper training, however, and...well...it might hurt."

The glow faded, and the eyes were normal again. "I know, you're still worried about that screaming woman, so I'll keep this brief. We dark knights don't care one whit for prestige or pedigree. We are free to follow our hearts, to defend the weak and punish the guilty as we see fit. The law of the land? The authority of a name? These are tools cowards use to escape harm. We have no need of shields, figurative or literal. So go ahead, ask me to teach you. Ask me to instruct you in the ways of the dark knights, and I will."

Dahkar looked at the proffered soul crystal. His hand began to rise, but stopped. "Why me?"

Fray looked Dahkar directly in his eyes. "Because I know what they did to you. Even before we met, I'd heard tales of the mighty Warriors of Light committing regicide. Didn't believe a word of em, obviously. Seemed fairly obvious those Crystal Braves were on someone else's payroll. But when you touched the crystal...it linked us, if only a moment. I knew the pain they'd caused you. The lost friends, the betrayal, the hate, everyone turning on you no matter what good you'd done. I felt it all...in your own personal dark side. That's what we dark knights do. We tap into that dark side and wield its power, just like you'd tap into your conjury or thaumaturgy. So I'll say it again. Ask me to instruct you in the ways of the dark knights, and I will."

Dahkar felt all of the anger that had been accumulating in his body over the past few days and glared into Fray's eyes. "Yes....yes I want that. Instruct me in the ways of the dark knights."

Fray's eyes lit up. Dahkar imagined that if he could see his face, he'd likely be smiling. "Good, good. They gave you the materials for the weapon of their own deaths that day. Now we forge it. Here, my blade is your blade, my soul crystal your crystal. Go on, take them. You'll need them soon enough."

Dahkar took the soul crystal, and like he'd done with three others before, intertwined his aether with it. Memories of training, techniques, and skills flooded his mind, and he suddenly knew how to wield the blade he then took from Fray with a much greater amount of skill.

"Oh, and Dahkar? You might want to find something else to wear. That Dragoon stuff makes you...a bit recognizable. You don't want to be, for what's about to happen."

Even as he said the words, Dahkar knew he was right. Attuned now as he was to the dark knight's soul crystal, he'd temporarily separated the link from his dragoon crystal, and without all those memories and training, the armor suddenly felt heavy and wrong, not designed to be used by anyone but experienced dragoons, which for the time being, he was not. He needed something else, something less showy and recognizable. He cast his mind to the Armory, searching among the various armors the Warriors kept inside. There, a generic looking set of steel plate armor Fearless had once worn in her early days training in the ways of the Warrior. She'd long ago acquired better, and hadn't worn it in some time. It would suffice for his own new form of training.

In an instant, the Echo-provided power did three things. It removed his own Drachen mail and placed it within the extradimensional space, the Gae Bolg spear he wielded alongside it. Then it resized the steel armor to fit him, and finally it placed it on his own body. He'd worn something similar early on when he'd begun walking the Dragoon's path, and it felt right on him immediately. Dahkar looked to Fray, who nodded.

"Neat trick. Come on. I like my lessons practical, and I suspect this to be an excellent opportunity for one."


	3. Chapter 3

Fearless was lost.

She'd expected Dahkar to make his way right to the Forgotten Knight, but no one there had seen him. Not knowing where else to look, she'd simply started wandering. She'd never been the best with directions, however, and had managed to turn herself around several times. Was she still in the Foundation district? Wait, hadn't she climbed a long set of stairs? Did that mean she was in the Pillars again? She swore.

She could see Ishgard's airship landing across the way from her. It appeared empty, but a nearby building had people conversing outside, and the interior appeared to be lit. She'd simply have to start asking.

The people outside were absorbed in their conversations and seemed ill-inclined to disengage from them, so she opened the door to enter. The building's walls were lined with bookshelves, containing tomes and scrolls as far as the eye could see. A nearby table had a...strange device she couldn't even begin to identify.

"Ah, greetings and welcome to the Athenaeum Astrologicum. Perhaps you were drawn by fate to this place of learning, or perhaps you wish to know more of fate itself?"

The voice belonged to a well-dressed Elezen man behind the building's front desk. He was a handsome sort, if you cared about that (she didn't). He was regarding her with an expectant sort of smile.

"What? No, I'm looking for a friend of mine, tall, wears....did you say fate?" she responded.

The Elezen's smile grew wider. "Yes, my lady, fate. In the stars above us is written the fates of every woman and man on Hydaelyn!" He gestured for her to come closer, which Fearless did. "Would you like to know something? It was in the stars that I read a woman would call upon the Athenaeum this very day. A woman who would play an important role in _my_ own life."

Fearless was perplexed. Who was this guy and what was this gibberish he was spouting? She raised her hand and shook her head. "No, look, I'm trying to find a friend..."

"Ah, but my apologies!" the elezen interrupted. "Even the most skilled reader cannot scry a name from the heavens. Would you be so kind as to give me yours, so that I might know who is to be my newest protégé?"

"Protégé?? Look, you stuffed shirt, I'm looking for a friend of mine....what do you mean you read in the stars?".

"Ah, does the idea of being able to read the future intrigue you, then? It is true. With the knowledge of Sharlayan Astrology, you can not only divine the future, but channel the aether of the stars for magicks both weal and woe. With this power, you can either help fate along...or even change it. What say you now? Will you accept the fate I have read for you and become my student?"

The anger was drained entirely from Fearless, her concern over Dahkar forgotten for but a moment. The power to see someone's fate? And change it? Her head turned down. "Look, I....a really bad thing happened to me and my friends recently. It might've cost some of them their lives, and us our home. I'd....I'd have given almost anything to see that coming. So...yeah I'd love to learn this. But....I don't think I'm the right woman for this. I'm not good with a lot of magic stuff."

The man waved his hand as if to dismiss her concerns. "Nonsense, the reading was quite clear, and no other woman has called upon me this day! If fate says you are to become my student, it knows you are capable! Now then...your name?  
  
"Fearless. Fearless Willow."

"Fearless. Well... I was not expecting that. But what is a name, but an attempt by our begetters to wield power over the lives of their sons and daughters? Lives whose paths have already been foretold! In a sense, that is. My name is Jannequinard de Durendaire and I am an astrologian for the Holy See. Remember that name, for it shall echo forevermore in the annals of Ishgardian history. Well...it will once I put it there. Once _we_ put it there! Now, where to begin?"

* * *

Alphinaud had excused himself to his room a bell or so ago, and Tataru had fallen asleep not long after that. Rheika, however, was determined to await the return of her friends and fellow Warriors. She'd tried quietly reading some of the tomes that decorated their room, only to find most of them dry and uninteresting. She'd cleaned and polished her bow and daggers. She'd tried to quietly play her harp (which had woken a cross Tataru) and the mudras Oboro had shown her. Then she tried reading again. By this point she'd realized exactly how many bells it had been since they'd all left and she grew extremely worried. She quickly exited the room, and found a servant still awake, who informed her that no one had entered the manor in some time.

 _Hells_ , she thought. _Surely they can't have gotten into trouble already!_ She cast her ether into the armory, finding her ninja soul crystal and garb within. She would need to move fast and quiet to find them without drawing any more attention to herself. As she garbed herself and left through the manor's front door, she didn't make it three steps into the night before seeing all three of her fellow Warriors of Light approaching the manor...from three different directions.

"Where in the hells have you all been? Do you have any idea what..." she trailed off. All of them were garbed strangely, definitely not wearing what they had been since she'd seen them last. She looked to Fearless, then Dahkar, and finally Franks. Something about his attire in particular looked familiar.... "Wait, Old Man, are you wearing my old toadskin leathers??"

Franks looked sheepish. "Well, you see, I needed something besides my robes, they weren't functional enough to...wait..." he trailed off as they all approached closer to Rheika. "Fearless, why are you wearing my old robes?

Fearless turned pink, not expecting the attention turned to her "Oh, I um...well I thought these were Dahkar's, first of all and...wait" she said, turning to Dahkar as she mentioned his name. She took in his own armor and immediately asked "Wait, that's my old steel plate! Why are you wearing it?"

All three of them began talking over each other again. Rheika held her head for a moment before she'd had enough. "STOP!" she said, her voice raised. All three of the others immediately stopped talking and looked at her.

"All right. You're all wearing kit that doesn't belong to you and you've been gone for bells. ONE AT A TIME, you're going to tell me what happened and especially what the hell you're all carrying strapped to your backs. You first, Dahk".

Dahkar swallowed and drew the massive sword on his back, showing it to them as he spoke. "Well, I...I meant a vigilante, I guess is the right word. He's a knight that wields his...inner darkness as a power source in defense of the oppressed from their oppressors. We uh...we beat the hell out of a group of Temple Knights that were abusing people in the Brume. He offered to keep teaching me. I don't think anyone recognized me though, so... I suppose I'm a dark knight now. Anyway, that's why I'm wearing Fearless' old armor, I needed something to fight in and not be recognized."

Rheika took in his confession with a remarkable lack of confusion. They were all used to each other's ability to quickly learn new martial arts. Well, except Fearless, but she'd always suspected that was simply because she hadn't found one that resonated with her yet. She turned to her next, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

Fearless blushed harder. "So I couldn't find Dahk, and I got lost. I found a building and went inside to ask after him, but this nobleman started talking to me about fate and reading the future and stuff and it turns out there's this school of magic from Sharlayan called astrology, and it's all about using these cards to read your fate in the stars and drawing on their aether to heal and strengthen allies as well as hurt foes. Anyway, the nobleman asked me to help find his teacher, who was coming in from Sharlayan, but they got waylaid by weather or pirates, and we tracked them to the Black Shroud. The teacher got taken by bandits, but his granddaughter was with him, and she taught me how astrology works and gave me her granddad's soul crystal and a...well it's called a Star Globe, it's what they use as a focus for their magicks".

She took the aforementioned focus from her back and held it in her hand, all of them watching as it spun, the cards of her deck floating around it in perfect orbit. "Anyway, so we saved the grandfather, and he said that I was the successor he'd long sought, not the nobleman, who is apparently kind of a fop that I've already overtaken in skill, and the granddaughter's staying in the city to instruct us both. Oh, and apparently, the Ishgardians only use this stuff to track the locations of certain stars that apparently dictate when the dragons will attack, they consider the rest to be...heretical at best."

Rheika covered her face with her palms. After a couple of deep breaths, she looked up and over to Franks.

Franks drew the firearm strapped to his back. "Well, you know I went to the manufactory. I was looking for...well you know. What I found was a son of house Hallienarte in charge. He told me he's developing a new kind of combat discipline centered around firearms and magitek. He calls it machinistry. This device on my hip, it takes aether from the wielder and turns it into the weapon's ammunition and also is what propels it. So...yeah no need for powder and ammo or long reloading. He saw my interest and asked me to join him. He'd teach me how to build all this, we'd work together on building other inventions for machinists to use, and I'd help test everything in the field and recruit others. Uh, also, it seems that a lot of the highborn knights think this is beneath them and that arming the lowborns would be heretical, so he's facing a lot of opposition on that front."

Rheika held here forehead. She felt an ache coming on. "So let me get this straight. All three of you have somehow picked up a new combat discipline, all three of which have some element of the power structure in Ishgard vehemently opposed to it, a power structure that by and large we already have enough issues navigating, and you all did this in the middle of the night?

The others looked at each other, and then all nodded.

Rheika sighed. "All right. Well, I suppose we've dealt with worse. Come on back inside, let's try and get some more sleep. We can talk about all this more in the morning."

And so the four walked back into Fortemps manor, together, to hopefully get a few bells of sleep. The morrow would be there, and would see their group dynamic changed, but not broken. They would still hold strong to their bonds of friendship, and woe betide those who would try to break them, be they man, primal, or dragon.

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to my amazing friend Lashen for his editing help!


End file.
